The Spy who Shagged Me
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: In which Matthew is a spy, Ludwig doesn't believe it, and Gilbert is right for once but no one believes him. Ludwig/Matthew


I wrote this just so I could get it out of my head. It takes place during WWII, but please don't expect historical accuracy. In fact, don't expect it to be accurate on any level. Seriously, just keep your expectations low for this. -shakes head sadly- And, no, I don't regret taking the title from Austin Powers XD -is shot-

Pairing: Ludwig/Matthew

Warnings: slash, sex, language, OOCness (ex: Ludwig), twisting of history

Summary: In which Matthew is a spy, Ludwig doesn't believe it, and Gilbert is right for once.

* * *

When a young man, dressed sharply in a clean, pressed uniform signifying his low rank, hands him a folder with a polite smile and laughing violet eyes and murmurs, "Sir", Ludwig has the inexplicable feeling that he's met and should definitely recognize this man.

"Matthew Williams." The boy—wide-eyed and smooth-faced—says when Ludwig studies him for a moment too long. His hair is smoothed back and tucked up into his pointed cap and his posture is perfectly straight.

Ludwig nods approvingly.

Williams' smile widens minutely.

After their first meeting, Ludwig decides he's merely paranoid.

Matthew Williams doesn't look like he could hurt a fly.

* * *

Matthew Williams is frightening with a gun.

Ludwig looks on as the young soldiers watch in awe as their comrade elegantly handles the weapon, shoots and is terrifying accurate, brazenly not even wasting time to set up properly, just firing as soon as possible.

All while keeping a pleasant smile on his face.

Ludwig watches as the rest of the men congregate around the slim blond, compliments and congratulatory pats falling freely. Williams laughs away the admiration, a rosy blush staining his cheeks.

Then he looks over at Ludwig. Strange purple eyes regard him—freeze him and sear him—and Ludwig feels a frisson of something dance down his spine.

* * *

Matthew Williams does not have the hands of a soldier.

Ludwig finds this out when he's turning a corner and, suddenly, a slender body tumbles into him. Years of training kick his reflexes into high gear and he grabs whomever the person is just as that person's hands connect with his chest.

Wide purple eyes look up at him—shimmering in the bright hallway light—and Ludwig realizes that he's got Williams by his elbows and the soldier's hands are pressed uselessly against his clothed chest.

They're soft, delicate—almost birdlike—and the nation of Germany has difficulty imaging these hands holding a rifle.

"Sir?" Williams asked, the beginnings of a smile twitching on his lips. His pulse flutters under Ludwig's fingers but neither male makes a motion to move.

* * *

Matthew Williams has a habit of being where he shouldn't be.

Ludwig sees the boy quietly step out of the room—the room that only high-ranking officials and Germany can enter—and look around before dusting off his uniform.

"Lost?" Ludwig asks, stepping out of the corner. Williams glances at him and if he's surprised, he gives no indication.

"I was, sir." He says, smile slipping into place. "But, fortunately you're here now. Perhaps you would not mind giving me directions?"

Ludwig doesn't really buy the other's excuse but before he can say anything, the boy has somehow managed to sneak up closer to him and Ludwig can smell the barest hint of cologne and see that the top button of Williams' uniform is undone.

Ludwig, unthinkingly, buttons it—his urge to keep things neat driving the act—, knuckles brushing against the warm skin of the soldier.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Williams whispers, pretty eyes flickering upwards.

"Granted." Ludwig swallows roughly when the other man smiles wickedly.

So familiar…but where…?

However, all thoughts of where he could've possibly seen Matthew Williams before fly out the window when the smaller man presses up against his front, kitten-like and sweet.

"Would I be wrong in assuming, sir, that you are attracted to me?" The pink tip of his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. "Do you want to fuck me? Sir?" It's added as an afterthought, mockingly.

Ludwig frowns, resolutely ignoring the way his pants tightened.

"Private—"

"Because I want you to fuck me."

Ludwig isn't sure, but he would bet that the other blond is laughing at him as Ludwig manhandles him the entire way to his private rooms.

* * *

Matthew Williams is a tease.

Mundane tasks such as cleaning a gun become unnecessarily erotic when Ludwig happens to watch training drills and Matthew purposely stares at him with a seductive smirk.

They each other in the hallways and sneaky hands brush against the front of his pants and pat his rear.

Even the way Matthew walks is enthralling. Sure, even steps and a faint confident swagger.

And God forbid if Ludwig ever enters the mess hall when Matthew is there.

* * *

"Your awesome big brother has arrived!" Is his only warning before the door slams open and Gilbert saunters in….

Only to stop dead in his tracks, crimson eyes disbelieving and stunned.

Ludwig closes his eyes and groans, head thumping against the pillow. Throwing an arm over his face, he wonders what he ever did to deserve this and why couldn't it have been Italy (because the Italian—as airheaded and oblivious as he is—would have quickly turned around and left) and which gun he should use to kill himself.

Matthew, who Ludwig happens to be balls-deep in, sits above him, pale face flushed and sweaty, golden curls sticking to his forehead and neck, trembles slightly and just stares at the silver-haired man in the doorway with a scowl.

Gilbert just stares hard at Matthew and then sighs deeply, looking at Ludwig with disappointed expression. "Oh Ludwig." The older man then shakes his head and turns around. "Of all the people."

When he finally leaves, Matthew looks down at him. "I suppose I should go." He starts to push himself off the other's member but Ludwig—still hard—grabs him by the hips and pulls him back down, eliciting a soft moan from both parties.

"You don't have—"

"YES YES HE SHOULD GO" Gilbert shouts from the room over and Matthew smiles apologetically.

Ludwig silently curses his bad luck.

* * *

"I leave for a month and what do I find the day I get back? My brother fucking the enemy!" Gilbert rants, pacing angrily as Ludwig sits on the couch, blond hair messy and face annoyed.

"He's not—"

"He is a spy!" Gilbert snaps, whirling around and pointing at the resigned Ludwig. "A spy!"

"Goodbye Ludwig." Matthew chirps, appearing out of nowhere (surreptitiously shoving something into his pocket and Gilbert gestures angrily at him).

Ludwig's eyes briefly narrow and he begins to ask, "What is tha—"

But he is interrupted again when Matthew swoops down and kisses the older man firmly on the lips. Ludwig threads his fingers through the other's soft curls and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss until his knees feel like jam and Matthew's pale cheeks are flushed and his lips are dark and bruised.

Gilbert facepalms as Matthew skips out of the room.

Ludwig just watches the other man leave—quietly bemoaning the fact he couldn't finish—before looking back at his brother.

"I thought I raised you better than this." Gilbert mutters. "Do you have any idea who that is?"

"Matthew Williams. Private." Ludwig answers, raising an eyebrow.

Gilbert sputters. "T-that cocky bastard! He couldn't even give a fake name!"

Ludwig frowns, not liking how confused he feels at the moment.

"That was Canada! You know, England's brat! America's brother!" Gilbert snaps. "Don't you remember the Great War?"

Ludwig shakes his head. Honestly, he tries not to remember that entire period in time. It was just too horrible. There's a certain period of about one hundred days or so in particular that he can't bring to mind at all no matter how hard he tries…

Gilbert sighs. "He is a monster. And now he's a spy." He shakes his finger at Ludwig. "And he's seducing you!"

"I would know if he's a spy—and he's not."

"He is. He's a spy and you fell for his pretty face and act—hook, line, and sinker."

* * *

When they have sex, Matthew is incredibly efficient in preparation (and it definitely turns Ludwig on). First he kicks off his shoes and neatly places them against the wall. Then comes shirt and pants, neatly folded on the chair. The rest of his clothes and hat go on the same chair and then the slim blond reclines on the bed and starts preparing himself, lube in hand and fingers already reaching back there.

By the time Ludwig enters the room (the two having agreed to enter separately what with intercourse between two men not being in line with Nazi ideology), Matthew is writhing on the bed, hard and ready for Ludwig to sink into his welcoming heat.

The act itself doesn't take long. Matthew is pliant and receptive under Ludwig and Ludwig takes in the other's beauty, nipping and kissing pale skin as the other blond mewls hotly.

The both parties get off, clean up, and decide not to cuddle in record time.

On Fridays, however, the process is altered because Matthew gives Ludwig a post-coital massage and soothes away the aches and tensions of a stressful week with gentle hands. Under the skillful administrations, Ludwig finds himself sleepy and comforted by Matthew's calming presence and finds someone willing to listen to his complaints about the leadership, decisions, and Italy running into his room naked at odd hours in the night.

"You poor thing." Matthew coos, hands roaming over an expanse of pale muscle. "Tell me all about it."

And Ludwig does.

* * *

"You haven't gotten rid of him yet." Gilbert says angrily, slipping into the chair in front of his brother's desk. "You should kill the bastard and send him to England."

Ludwig nods jerkily, clenching his pen so hard his fingers are white.

"Sure he's pretty but c'mon! He's a spy and you need to do something!"

"Uh…r-right…"

"He's dangerous, Ludwig."

"I-I know…."

"He's Canada for fuck's sake!"

"A-ah…y-yes…" Ludwig grits out, screwing his eyes shut and panting.

Gilbert studies him with sharp eyes and then lets out a groan. "He's under the table right now, isn't he?"

Ludwig's shoulders jerk and the normally composed German shudders, hair falling out of their neat style. Slowly he sits up, pale blue eyes downward and a pink blush on his cheeks as he scoots his chair back.

Gilbert rolls his eyes.

Matthew gracefully rises out from under the desk and brushes some loose strands of gold out of his face. Licking his lips (pointedly and in an exaggerated fashion), the blond winks at Ludwig.

The lewd gesture causes Ludwig's cock (which was back in his pants due to a thoughtful gesture on Matthew's part) to twitch in interest again.

Gilbert glares at the blond who pays him no mind as he skips out the door and then turns his pissed off face towards Ludwig who is still in the dregs of post-orgasmic bliss.

"Hook, line and sinker."

* * *

In the end, it is Matthew who steals a plane and flies off, leaving a furious Gilbert (furious because he did try to warn the superiors but for some reason none of them knew who Matthew was and all the low ranked soldiers admired the spy) to shout "I was right! I was right!" and a very satisfied but forlorn Ludwig.

"Don't tell me you miss him!" Gilbert screeches as Ludwig sighs for the umpteenth time. "He was a spy! He knows our secrets! Why didn't you listen to me?"

"He was so quiet and always listened." Ludwig says mournfully. "And he gave wonderful massages."

Gilbert stares at him in disbelief. Did his brother even learn anything?

And they said he (Gilbert) was an idiot.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? All comments and criticisms welcome! -slinks off to wonder about what she just wrote in her Cave-


End file.
